


Daffodil

by kaitlynlullabee



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cheesy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlynlullabee/pseuds/kaitlynlullabee
Summary: Bucky and Steve have a bit more time in Bucharest before the authorities catch up to them, and they've both got some stuff to say.





	Daffodil

**Author's Note:**

> My friend holls and I had a late night, bizarre idea that grew and turned into these fics! Go read theirs at
> 
> [Daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19716796)
> 
> Thanks, Holls, you're the best <3

“He isn’t in there, Cap,” Sam’s voice crackled over the comms, some sort of radio interference in play in the building that managed to swarm even Tony’s tech.

Cap continued to take the steps up two and three at a time, silently swearing Bucky up and down for choosing to live in a hovel without an elevator, in fucking Bucharest of all places. “No, but he will be,” he answered Sam, heaving himself up onto the last landing before Bucky’s door.

Sam’s “yeah, okay,” was almost drowned out by the whir of the automatic lock picks SHIELD had outfitted them with and Steve had managed to pocket way back when. Steve wasn't exactly surprised when the only security measure he was met with was the lock and the radio interference setup in the corner, not even the deadbolt was thrown. Bucky, Catholic to the core, was always looking for ways to punish himself, and leaving his apartment poorly defended was the perfect way to get the beating he thought he needed. Steve knew Bucky, even this amalgamation of Winter Soldier and Bucky and something else.

“Just let me know if you see him,” Steve said into the comms, taking a slow stroll through the sparse living quarters, heart clenching hard at the sad state of things. The sleeping bag too small for a normal person let alone a super soldier on the bare bed made Steve want to punch things, and the bare bookshelves made him see red even worse. Bucky loved books, of all sorts, especially the dime sci-fi novels they sold at the grocer down the block. Here there were no books to be seen, but wait, that wasn’t quite right.

Steve walked up to the fridge that didn’t even sound like it was running, tugging the notebook down off the top of it. He held it carefully in his hands, turning it over to see the scribbles and damage of the cover that meant this was something Bucky held often, wrote in often. Steve let it fall open to the most-loved page, mildly gobsmacked when he was met with his own face staring up at him. A creak behind him made him whip around, but he knew it was Bucky before he laid eyes on him.

“Do you know me?” Steve asked, voice creaking under the weight of  _ BuckyBuckyBucky _ .

“You’re Steve. I read about you at the museum,” Bucky said, eyes manic and shoulders tense. Steve felt the much-loved notebook in his hands as he stared Bucky down.

"I know you're nervous. And you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying,” Steve said, squaring his own shoulders subtly, preparing himself for Bucky’s rebuttal. 

“I might have been to the Tower, too, you know they’ve got that big mural of your face…” Bucky said, trailing off and eyes skittering to the notebook in Steve’s hands. He went a little green around the edges then, realizing Steve had seen the center spread inside that notebook. Steve slowly reached up to click off his comms, making sure Sam couldn’t hear their conversation anymore.

“Neither of those places display exactly what Bucky Barnes meant to me 70 years ago, though, or what I meant to him,” Steve said softly, opening the spread of the notebook to read from within. “Mr Bucky Rogers? James Buchanan Rogers, J. B. Rogers, Sergeant James Rogers-”

“Stevie, stop,” Bucky said, voice so quiet Steve wasn’t sure he’d heard him at first.

“Buck, how much do you remember?” Steve asked, turning the book to face Bucky, pointing to where Bucky had drawn a big Valentine sized heart around the museum flyer’s bold STEVEN G ROGERS.

“You’re the one holding a book fulla my memories and you want me to list ‘em?” Bucky retorted, eyebrows pinching in and for a minute they were in their kitchen in 1939 and Bucky was getting tetchy over Steve leaving his shoes just inside the door to be tripped over. “Don’t remember you bein’ so dense but now it’s all comin’ back,” he added, and Steve grinned wide and beatific. “No, nuh-uh, don’t lookit me like that Stevie, I ain’t the boy that proposed to you with a daisy chain ring,” he continued, but Steve really was dense so he kept smiling.

“Buck, you drew  _ a heart _ around my name and now you’re tryin’ to say you ain’t that boy?” Steve teased, taking a half step toward Bucky.

“Muscle memory, that’s all,” Bucky shrugged a heavy left shoulder, mouth twisting up sardonically. “Drawing’s good for the metal hand, means I maintain ambidexterity,” he rambled, watching Steve with wide eyes as he continued to take baby half steps toward him.

“Right, right,” Steve went along with it, smiling out one side of his mouth now, standing a scant 8 inches away from Bucky. “Muscle memory. Nothing to do with the fact we were so stupid over each other you proposed to me with a  _ daisy chain ring  _ and I said  _ yes.” _

"Stupid is right, we were 17 and it was the goddamn Depression-"

"I'll still say yes," Steve interrupted like the bull in a China shop he always was, even before the serum.

Bucky stood absolutely stock-still, eyes wide where they got stuck on Steve's face. "Steve, I'm  _ not _ that kid anymore. The things I've done…"

"I know, Buck. I got stuck in the ice for 70 years and the guy who came out the other side wasn't the same one who went in," Steve said, taking another step toward Bucky.

"But you haven't… Steve," Bucky said, chiding and frustrated. "I ran because I didn't want you to find me, punk."

"And I chased you because I needed to find you."

Bucky shook his head sadly, looking at his feet. "You don't wanna get mixed up with me, Stevie. They're comin' for me now, even though I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore."

"Come home with me. I've got a team I can trust. Let me protect you," Steve begged, voice quiet and urgent.

Bucky stayed silent, boring a hole in the floor with his eyes.

"Please, Buck," Steve tried again, holding out the notebook with the heart drawing face up. "You kept me from dyin' all those years, let me return the favor now that I can."

Bucky looked from the floor to the notebook, all the good things he'd remembered crammed into the pages in and around Steve's picture. There was another, thicker notebook hidden in his go-bag under the floorboards with all the horrible things he remembered. 

"If I go with you, it's gotta be as a free man. I ain't gonna be a pawn anymore, Stevie," he rasped, eyes skittering up to Steve's earnest face. He has never been able to resist those baby blues, not even after 70 years of brainwashing.

"No one is gonna lay a hand on you, Buck," Steve promised.

Bucky took the notebook from Steve's hands, closing it and tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Where're we goin'?"

"Anywhere you want. You ever see Bora Bora? Heard the water is beautiful," Steve said, his insides feeling like they were filled with helium.

"Your Irish skin won't be able to take the sun, Stevie," Buck answered, sardonic twist to his lips again. "Do I get a say?"

"If you say Coney Island I'm leaving right now," Steve joked, stepping even closer.

"Liar," Bucky said, the word half confident and half hopeful. Steve lifted a hand to cup Bucky's cheek like he was trying to hold a cornered animal.

"Yeah," Steve breathed. "I ain't lettin' you outta my sight again," he said, Brooklyn slur rearing its head in the face of  _ BuckyBuckyBucky. _

"Good," Bucky said, voice gravel. He reached out with shaking fingers to hook into Steve's suit, hold him right where he wanted. "That'll make it easier for me to keep you in mine," he breathed, eyes blown black as he finally, finally met Steve's gaze.

Steve wasted very little time leaning in, pressing their lips together in a desperate way that tried to convey everything he was feeling in his big chest. Their lips slid against each other like they always had, and it made what little control Steve had crumble underneath the nostalgia. He clutched and grasped and tugged at Bucky, one hand in his long hair and the other sliding up under his henley and _oh God yes_ _BuckyBuckyBucky._

A rapid series of clicks in Steve's earpiece signalled the German anti-terrorist unit entering the building, and Steve broke away from Bucky reluctantly. He pressed his forehead to Bucky's, breathing heavy.

"We gotta go, the authorities are coming," Steve said, voice wrecked.

Bucky swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. "Okay. Okay," he said dazedly, pulling away from Steve and getting his things from under the floorboard.

"You decide where you wanna go?" Steve said, flicking his earpiece back to voice comms.

"Anywhere you are, punk."

"Except Coney Island, jerk."

"Except Coney Island," he agreed, a small smile spreading on his face.

"Figure it out on the jet, we've got incoming," Sam groused and Steve could see Sam soar off the roof in his peripheral vision. 

"Let's go, Buck," Steve said, holding out his arm for Bucky to go through the door first. Because Steve would follow Bucky anywhere, even if he really did want to go to Coney Island.


End file.
